39Chapter 2: Harps and love.
Onimicient.
{} - dream.
Mooo - thought.
*song*
Olwen opened her eyes to a loud hoot of an owl. It was still dark, and the crescent moon loomed over the hills. She was fourteen, and soon to be finishing her training as a Bard. She leaned over to feel if Werath was still there. Werath. One of the people with her. He had grown since she first met him. He was twelve then, and nineteen now. He was good, and kind. A full Druid now, but he still traveled with their surrogate father. Korath. The man was old now, 40, and had a long, full beard that he had plaited down to his chest. She laid on her back for a long time trying to fall to sleep again, but she could barely close her white eyes. She let the cold air prickle her skin.
I wish I could be with my family again.
She longed for her brother Gathis most of all. He would have been twenty-two at that time, but being with her family was out of the question. All of the people in her village were either dead, or slaves spread far and wide over Britain. She had come to terms with that, and she could cry no more for them. She rolled over to face Werath. He was handsome. She knew it even though she couldn't see him. Olwen was blind, she always had been. That was why Korath had decided that she was dear to the Gods. Werath was kind. He helped her. It was he that led her horse through dangerous territory, or rode with her when there was only one horse.
"Are you awake Olwen?"
His deep baritone startled her. He had been awake even longer than her. She felt her face begin to warm.
"Ye-s. Why are you awake?"
"The same reason as you I presume?"
"Um.. I- The owl woke me."
He sat up. His dark skin glistened with sweat that Olwen couldn't see.
"The owl called twice. The first one woke me."
He stood. He lied to her, and he was ashamed. Werath was woken by a nightmare. He dreamt that they were attacked, by Saxons. He looked at Olwen. She had a Saxon's fair hair and white eyes, and though she had been taken from Ireland when she was young, she still had a soft lilt to her voice that made it ever beautiful when she sang. She would be a full Bard in just one year, and she would be given her name again. Korath had already confided her name with him.
Olwen the white.
Olwen gathered her long hair in her hands the next morning, and tied it with a scrap of cloth.
"Where are we going now?"
Korath answered her with a wry voice.
"To London."
"London. Why?"
Werath chuckled to himself. Olwen was forever asking questions, and when she started off this early in the morning; Korath and himself were in for an entire day full of questions. Though neither of them ever minded answering the young girls suspicions.
"Am I to get my harp there?"
They traveled for three days at a leisurely horse pace.
~*~*~
{Werath looked about himself. He was in the middle of a battle scene. There were whooping soldiers all about him, and a woman. She was around his age, and covered in blood. She had blonde hair, and her eyes were closed. She raised her sword, and gave a victory cry that sounded wrong on her pure, high voice. She then turned her head, and opened her Golden eyes to look at him. It was Olwen! And she could see!}
I woke covered in sweat. Like I normally did when I had dreams as such. I'd been having dreams about Olwen almost three times a week. My eyes darted to where she slept, with a serene look on her soft features. She had just turned sixteen. I was twenty-one. I looked to Korath. He was sleeping fitfully. I sighed as my heart filled with worry for the man that had raised me. I was a full Druid, and I couldn't help him. He was a full Druid, and he couldn't help himself. He was ill. It was a sickness of age he said, and could not be cured.
"I am dying Werath."
He told me one day, and asked me not to tell Olwen of his dark prediction. Her beauty grew, and never faltered since she was ten years old. Only one thing seemed to help Korath. It was Olwen's songs and harp. I leaned over to touch her face. I was five years older than her. An older brother type. Not fit for a lover. I would never be part of that life. She would have lovers. She would be married, and then she would fade from my life. Doomed, to play the harp in some lord's hall, and to warm his bed at night.
Korath's never ending coughs subsided, leaving me to my unhappy thoughts. While I watched Olwen sleep.
She doesn't even know how beautiful she is.
My thoughts on her were almost never ending, yet she (ever to my disbelief) Is not a goddess, and thus cannot read my mind. So she, my goddess, will never know of my feelings. We had stayed at a lakeside that night, and in the morning when I had finally fallen asleep, she woke me. With a song early in the morning.
"through the long dark road ahead"
"after fears are replaced by dread,"
"They, the lost, who lie in wait,"
"Have merely been scared, by malice, and hate."
"and you the fair, who insides lust,"
"Shall try to believe that your cause is just,"
I rose up to my feet, and then made my way to the lake. She was washing our clothes. I looked on for a long time. I could not tear my eyes away, and there was an ache in me that screamed to be healed. She was so fragile, and feminine. Her body was lithe, but strong, and in her resided a demon of stubbornness. Her sweet voice drifted across the lake, and doubtless through the forest. I sighed and turned away, and as I began to walk, I heard a scream. Olwen's scream.
(A/N: Heh heh. How do you like THAT for a cliff hanger?!)